King's Clan
by CountingWithStraws
Summary: He is merely the second prince, his elder brother is off conquering the world, his father is on his deathbed, the people starve from famine, and the Lords challenge him at every turn. The last thing he needs is to be drawn to this man, this outsider, but no matter how hard he fights it, he can't help what he feels, & on top of it all, his brother's betrothed is around every corner.
1. Prologue

**:Prologue:**

 **In the Year of the Goddess 1626**

He ran through the gardens, ignoring the freshly manicured pathways, and tore through the rose bushes. Crimson petals flew into the air like droplets of blood, scattering the rich scent of the roses into the crisp, pre-winter air. The bramble of thorns ripped his nightclothes and bit into his porcelain skin. His throat burned and his lungs cried desperately for air, yet he did not stop—could not stop, for to do so would mean the death of his beloved friend.

Noctis stumbled as he reached the small cottage hidden in the foliage at the farthest edge of the garden from the castle. His foot caught on a creeping vine and he fell. Pain tore through his left hand.

Instinctively, he cried out, "Prompto!"

A boy with sun-kissed skin and eyes like moonlight stumbled, half-dressed, out of the cottage. His golden hair trailed behind him in a loose sleeping braid. The boy's eyes immediately found Noctis and narrowed, his pupils morphing into animal-like slivers, at the site of the blood pooling around Noctis's hand.

Noctis shook his head, trying to clear it of the pain. Prompto was more important. "Prompto, you must-"

"You're injured," Prompto interrupted and knelt before Noctis. Carefully he took Noctis's hand and inspected the long cut across the prince's hand.

"It doesn't matter. You must run! My father, the king-"

"You need to get this treated."

"Never mind that! You're in danger. You need to run. Now!"

"The dirt will surly-"

"Listen to me!" Noctis commanded, ripping his bloody hand from Prompto's gentle grasp and cupping the servant's face in both of his hands, forcing Prompto to look at him, and smearing his blood across Prompto's cheek. They didn't have time for this! His father had honoured his late mother's promise to the exiled gardener for but a few years. Now that the gardener was also dead, the king saw no reason to continue. In the king's mind an Ollphéist was an Ollphéist, even if its mother was human, and Ollphéists were a threat. He had sentenced Prompto to death this very night.

"Prompto," Noctis continued, softening his voice. "Your mother is dead. It was not but an hour ago. Father has called for his generals. He's going to kill you."

For a moment neither boy moved. Noctis watched Prompto's silver eyes shifting, processing what he had just said. The gardener had always kept her son's demonic nature in-check, yet still everyone had feared Prompto because he was half-Ollphéist—everyone but Noctis, the kingdom's second prince. Noctis had seen the feral blood stirring beneath the surface, as he did now, but never had he feared the other boy. Prompto was his friend.

Noctis's thumb brushed under Prompto's eye—it was dry, the skin smooth to the touch. Prompto would not cry, despite the pain his heart was feeling. Others would call him heartless and blame it on his Ollphéist blood, but Noctis knew the strength of his friend. Right now the tears would only weaken Prompto and place him in more danger. So Noctis cried for him, allowing his own tears to spill down his cheeks.

"You must go," Noctis whispered gently. "You must run from this place. I do not yet have the power to protect you."

Slowly, Prompto looked at Noctis, his silver eyes strange and ethereal. Noctis could feel the beast behind those eyes, lurking beneath the surface. He could feel the raw power and animalistic hunger deep within Prompto, but all he could see was the gentle human who had those eyes, his best friend who was filled with naïve laughter and a bright view of an otherwise dark and war-torn world.

Wordlessly, Prompto brought Noctis's injured hand to his mouth and gently, as if Noctis's hand was the most precious thing in the world, licked the wound. Noctis gasped, his gaze never leaving Prompto's. His heart fluttered as warmth entered his wounded palm and spread through his body. When Prompto lifted his head, his lips were stained red.

"Will you wait for me?" Prompto asked; his voice shook with loneliness.

"I will," Noctis said without hesitation. "This will always be your home."

Prompto leaned forward and kissed his prince. Shocked, Noctis's heart beat wildly against its cage and then slowed in time with Prompto's. It was only a moment, a mere span of breath, but in that moment Noctis was one with Prompto, nothing separated them. It was as if in that single act of Prompto's lips touching his own that an ancient magick surrounded them, protecting them from the world and unified them. Slowly, Prompto pulled from the kiss and smiled at Noctis, who blushed to match the roses.

"I will return to you, I promise." Prompto stood, releasing Noctis's hand, and ran toward the castle wall.

Noctis watched him effortlessly climb the sturdy wall with his Ollphéist strength and then disappear into the darkness. Tears clouded Noctis's vision, this time for the pain in his own heart. Quickly, he wiped them away and then looked down at his injured hand. The wound had healed, replaced with a soft, silver scar. He smiled and closed his hand tightly as some unknown feeling welled up inside of him. His tears fell more freely. Whatever the Goddess had in store for them in the future, Noctis would protect Prompto with his dying breath.


	2. I

**:I:**

 **In the Year of the Goddess 1639**

Noctis, Second Prince of Ríocht na Uisce, took his seat in the outdoor court. It had been decorated to honour the Goddess Uisce during the summer festival, which was well underway. The Lords of the Uisce Court were already eyeing their choice bedmates from the servant maidens walking around with trays of ale and Fíorian wine. The dusk air was filled with laughter, music, and the sea bird's song. After a long day of mind-numbing paperwork, it felt nice to relax in the company of his cousin, Ignis, who was currently absorbed in conversation with Noctis's maid, Iris.

"I disagree," he heard Iris say. "I think this particular herb could be helpful in treating poisons, especially those that affect Ollphéists."

"Treat Ollphéists?" Ignis said, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and then turning to Noctis. "Do you hear this nonsense cousin? Why in the Goddess's name would we want to treat an Ollphéist?"

Noctis took a pint of ale from a passing maiden servant, nodded his thanks to her, and said nothing.

"Really Iggie, there's no reason to be so heartless," Iris said. Had those words come out of any other servant's mouth there probably would have been trouble, but Iris was a childhood friend to the royal cousins as well as the younger sister to the Castle General. By now the two men were used to both her talk of healing herbs, which she had secretly been studying for years, and her uncommon belief that Ollphéist were merely misunderstood.

"Ollphéists are nothing but animals and cold blooded killers," Ignis snapped, "and I'm the heartless one?"

Noctis thought of the thin silver scar on the palm of his hand and instinctively place it over his heart. "Not all."

Ignis looked at his cousin for a moment and then lowered his eyes. "Of course, Your Highness," he said softly and took a deep sip of his own ale. "I hear tonight's entertainment is a gift from the First Prince, in celebration of his continual success conquering Tir yr Haul."

Noctis's gaze flicked to the Haulian dancers moving around the large bonfire. Occasionally one would perform 'magick' by throwing powder into the flames, changing their colour and eliciting a round of cheers from the crowd. He looked away.

"Yes, delightful." Noctis drained his tanker in a single drink. He would have preferred Ardyn come home and do his duty as First Prince rather than play conqueror abroad.

A hand gently clasped Noctis's shoulder. He looked up to find the stoic gaze Gladio, the Castle General, looking out at the Haulian dancers. The tension in the general's hard, brown eyes gave Noctis pause. He looked to the bonfire.

The loud, lively music faded into something soft and ethereal, and the fire slowly changed from orange to blue without any Haulian powder trick. As the surrounding festival lights went out a form appeared in the flames. At first it looked like a small dog, a puppy even, but then it grew and grew until the most beautiful creature Noctis had ever seen stood admits the flames: an Ollphéist with long, pale blonde hair that looked nearly as white as the fresh snow of Oileán an Banríon Sneachta. Its sun-kissed skin was covered in shimmering bronze tattoos, like the swirl of Iníonian vines and dots crawling up its limbs. Its body was draped in royal Haulian silks, delicately embroidered with the intricate geometric designs of An Talamh Thorthúil. Thick, golden Fíorian bands circled its neck, wrists, and ankles, and long strands of Uiscian pears fell from its ears. It was a creature that embodied the beauty of all worlds, and yet it was not of this world. It was Ollphéist.

The creature stepped out of the flames and yet its body still glowed, as if it held the light of the flames within its skin. As it began to move and dance around the flames it seemed as if the Goddess had graced Uisce with her presence. Noctis could hardly breath, could hardly think. His gaze was captured by this divine creature, this Ollphéist.

As the creature continued to dance the bonfire gradually returned to orange and one by one the torches around the festival lit up. It was then that Noctis realised that something was wrong. Rage boiled inside of him. Standing, Noctis made his way toward the dancing Ollphéist, waking the onlookers from its hypnotizing movements. As he approached the Ollphéist he realised that, unlike all of the other Haulian dancers, the Ollphéist was male.

"Stop," Noctis commanded softly, too softly for any of the human onlookers to hear over the music. Yet the Ollphéist had. It stood before him with the ethereal grace of a god. Even with the silk blindfolding its eyes, Noctis knew it was looking directly at him. He continued, "Do they pain you still or has it been so long that you've grown used to it?"

The Ollphéist said nothing.

Noctis raised his hand. The music stopped. "General Gladio, remove these Fíorian instruments of torture and let this dancer be treated by the royal healers."

Gasps and cries of outrage sprung up throughout the crowd. _But it was Ollphéist!_ Without paying the angry whispers any mind, Gladio approached the prince. With one look at the General's face, Noctis knew that he had been aware of the golden Fíorian bands that bit into the Ollphéist's skin and caused it to bleed slowly, yet continuously. Since he had not removed them before meant that someone who outranked the General had placed them there. Noctis turned to the crowd.

"This is a festival in honour of the Goddess Uisce, the mother of our great kingdom," he said. "It is not a festival of blood. Let us honour Her how She wishes us to honour Her, with food and dance and laughter, so that one day our prayers will be answered and Prince Ardyn will return safely with your sons and husbands and brothers from those foreign shores where they wage war. Let them return to a Ríocht na Uisce of peace and prosperity, not one that finds enjoyment in blood."

He paused and allowed his words to sink in. He could tell that he had reached the commoners. They were his alleys in this kingdom and they were the ones most affected by his brother's selfish conquering. The Lords of the Court, however, only saw him defending an Ollphéist. As he gestured for Gladio to do as he had asked, the Ollphéist finally moved. Taking the prince's hand in its own, the Ollphéist allowed a single drop of its blood to fall into the palm of Noctis's hand. It then covered Noctis's hand with its own. Warmth filled the space between their hands and Noctis was reminded of an ancient power he once felt a long time ago. When the Ollphéist removed its hand it left a single, dark pink tea rose where the drop of blood hand been. Noctis looked at the bloom, amazed by the impossible.

Before Noctis could say anything, the Ollphéist moved passed him and over to Gladio, who took the opportunity to make their exit. Noctis looked at the rose a moment longer, it was a flower that had always fascinated him in all of its varieties because it had been his beloved mother's favourite. Lowering the rose to his side, he gestured for a maiden servant to give him a pint of ale. After which he raised it up and said, "To the Goddess Uisce and to our fathers, sons, and brothers!"

A shout went out and everyone drank; though, some more deeply than others.


	3. II

**:II:**

Though they had quieted considerably, Noctis could still hear the laughter and merriment of those still enjoying the festival, despite the sun having set into the depths of Muir na Bandia hours ago. It was likely some would still be at it when the sun rose from those gray waters. With any luck, Noctis hoped to have found peace in a moment's sleep by then. Considering the message Gladio had sent him, however, that was unlikely.

With a heavy sigh, Noctis entered the kitchen through the servant's passage. It was a large room filled with heavy cauldrons, baskets of dried herbs and potatoes, and bags of wheat and flour. The accumulated scent of centuries of meals prepared in this room hung in the air like the warmth of a mother's hug after a bad dream. Perhaps because of his mother's common birth, Noctis had always found comfort in the kitchen, even during its most active times. As a babe, his mother had been wont to bring him here and help Old Cook with the baking. For him the kitchen had always been a happy place. Tonight, however, it was filled with tension.

Gladio stood near the sinks below the windows, which overlooked the herb garden. His shoulders sagged with a heavy worry that he only showed around his sister, Iris, and his short, brown hair looked nearly black in the moonlight. The Castle General's head was bent low as he quietly spoke to Iris, who was bandaging her hand.

Quietly, Noctis approached the siblings. "What's wrong? Are you all right, Iris?"

Gladio looked up, his shoulders straightening. "I did as you asked, Your Highness, but the Healers refused to treat the Ollphéist."

"So I did," Iris said, her head held high.

Noctis frowned. "Did it attack you?"

" _He_ did nothing of the sort!"

"My imbecilic sister tried to give it- _him_ ," Gladio corrected when Iris jabbed her elbow into his abdomen, "her blood."

Noctis's eyes widened. "What?"

"His injuries are grave, Noct. Look at what your brother put on him!" Iris gestured to five golden bands that lay broken on a nearby counter. The four smaller ones were inlayed with a series of small, twisted spikes, and the larger one, the one fitted to the Ollphéist's neck, also had a longer, straight spike. "It takes a month to travel from the closest port in Tir yr Haul, _a month!_ And Goddess knows how far up the coastline they are after all these years."

"You best watch your tongue, Iris," Gladio warned his sister. "That's the future king of Ríocht na Uisce you're talking about."

"He's no king of mine! No one should have a spike lodged into their throat and then be forced to dance. I don't care if he's Ollphéist or human, we're all still the God and Goddess's children."

Noctis tuned out the siblings' bickering, he had heard it often enough. Instead he approached the bands. They were covered in blood and specks of blackened flesh where the Ollphéist's regenerative abilities had attempted to heal around the spikes. The sight made his insides twist. How much pain had that poor creature endured? Yet it had moved around the flames with such fluidity and ease. Had it grown accustomed to the pain or did its own pride keep it from allowing them to see how much it suffered?

Sighing, Noctis looked away from the bands and his gaze fell upon another dark pink tea rose that was on the counter near the torture devices. Gently, he ran his finger across the edge of one of the soft petals, which was so dark and vivid it nearly looked as if it breathed life. Why had the Ollphéist given him such a bloom? Why was there another one here of all places?

"Gratitude," Iris said, breaking Noctis's thoughts.

Blinking, Noctis looked at the siblings. "Pardon?"

"That particular shade of rose is a sign of gratitude in some cultures."

"Of course you would know this." Noctis smiled. "Read it in some book in the restricted Healer's Library, eh?"

"Your mother's, actually."

Noctis's smile softened. Of course, his mother had had a great many tomes on all aspects of nature. "So our Ollphéist friend speaks in flowers."

Iris looked the prince straight in the eyes, unsmiling. "Perhaps that is because he can't speak."

Noctis's mood sobered. He looked to Gladio. "Tell me everything."

"I did as you asked," Gladio began, scratching the back of his head with his large, sword-calloused hand. "I, uh, borrowed, if you will, some tools from the castle blacksmith to remove the bands and then took him to the Healers. They refused to have anything to do with an Ollphéist. They even shut the doors to the Healer's Wing right in my face. Bastards. So, I did the only thing I could, I sent for Iris."

"By the time I met them here the poor man was covered in his own blood," Iris continued. "He's covered in wounds and his flesh has turned black where the bands were."

"I thought most Ollphéists healed rather quickly?" Noctis asked.

"I don't think he's strong enough right now. Considering how long he's had those bands on, it's likely the healing process has been slowly draining his strength all this time. On top of that the blackened flesh concerns me. Even if he was continuously healing and the bands continued to keep the wounds open, there is no reason for his skin to turn black."

"What can we do?"

"I don't know. I've read that many Ollphéists can rejuvenate themselves by feeding on the blood of another, but when I tried to give him some of mine he merely gave me a rose and dismissed me."

"To which, if you ever try that again, I'll kill you myself," Gladio said sternly.

"Chide your sister later, Gladio," Noctis said, raising his hand to silence the siblings' bickering before it started. "You said the Ollphéist could not speak. Explain."

"The band around his neck," Iris said, gesturing to it. "The longest spike was locked into his throat. For the time being, it's muted him."

"I have seen these devices before, Your Highness," Gladio added darkly, "but never have I seen one like that. Whomever put it on the Ollphéist did not want him to talk."

Noctis looked at the neckband. What in the Goddess's divine name was going on here? "Then we shall have to find a way for it to talk. Where is it?"

" _Him_ , Noctis," Iris said quietly, yet there was an edge of sad desperation to her voice. "He is a man, not an it."

Noctis placed his hand on her slim shoulder. "Where is he?"

Iris smiled, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He's in the garden."

With a single nod, Noctis turned and left the kitchen through the side door, only to come to a halt at the threshold. Just yesterday Old Cook had wept at the state of the herb garden. For years the garden had yielded fewer and fewer crop. The same was for the flower gardens and the few farms of Ríocht na Uisce. Tonight the garden was flush with life. Everywhere the full moon's light touched was vividly green and alive. The salt air was filled with the earthy scents of sage and thyme and citrus. Noctis couldn't believe his eyes, yet his heart leapt with relief.

On impulse, the prince yanked off his riding boots and stepped out into the garden. Instead of the dry, hard ground of yesterday, soft, fertile dirt smooshed between his naked toes. Noctis wanted to cry out, to shout with glee—until he saw the lone figure collapsed beneath a tree, blood pooling around it only to be hungrily absorbed into the famished earth.

"Gladio! Iris! Come quick!" Noctis shouted as he ran to the Ollphéist. Sliding to his knees, Noctis attempted to find a pulse on the Ollphéist's throat, but the skin was too damaged beneath the bandages to find the right spot, and his fingers kept sliding on the thick, warm blood. He couldn't even stop the bleeding if he tried; there were too many wounds. Noctis cursed the Goddess's wretched humour and hugged the Ollphéist to his chest. What could he do? How could he save him? For some reason, tears filled his eyes.

"Your Highness!"

Noctis looked up as the siblings approached. He had called for them, but what could they do? What could he do? As he opened his mouth to speak, Noctis felt the Ollphéist's tongue lick his bare throat. Pausing, he pulled away and looked down at the Ollphéist. His eyes were still blindfolded and all of those lovely silks had been stained with blood, yet still Noctis found him beautiful.

Whispering, Noctis said, "So you won't take Iris's blood, but you'll have mine? My, my, you have refined tastes. But you'll have to wait a bit longer."

"What was that, Your Highness?" Gladio asked, kneeling to his prince's level.

"'Twas nothing." Noctis looked first to the worried expression of the Castle General and then to his maid. "Iris, I want you to wake Old Cook and the kitchen staff. Have them take what they can from the garden whilst its here. I don't know how long this bloom will last. Have them salvage what they can for those in need and then make your way to my chambers. Make haste."

Iris nodded quickly and then ran off toward the kitchen staff's dormitory wing. Noctis took a deep breath and braced himself for the reproach he was sure to get from the Castle General and his friend.

"Let's move before I change my mind," Gladio said before Noctis could utter a single command. "And don't give me that befuddled look, Noct. Just because I'm wise enough to keep my mouth shut doesn't mean I agree with those fear-mongers. I just wish it didn't have to be your blood."

Noctis blinked. "You mean…?"

Gladio said nothing as he bent to pick up the Ollphéist. It was then that Noctis noticed the bandage hidden beneath Gladio's black and gray liveries. Noctis smiled. He was a fool, but at least he had allies.


	4. III

**:III:**

Gladio watched as his prince laid a protective blanket over the bed furs to keep them from getting bloody, whilst he held the seemingly lifeless Ollphéist in his arms. As he watched the prince's long, thin fingers smooth out the fabric, fear crept into his heart. Though he would not show it to Noctis, he was petrified of what his sister had told him in the kitchen before the prince had arrived.

 _She was rambling—again—something about commandeering a book from one of the restricted sections of the Royal Library. Iris knew how much it annoyed him and they really didn't have time for it with a bleeding Ollphéist in the garden. Plus, there was something about the look in Noctis's eyes when he had seen the Ollphéist dancing earlier told him that the creature's death would negatively affect the prince in unforeseen ways. Taking a deep breath, Gladio pinched the bridge of his nose._

" _Iris," he said, attempting to curve his exasperation, "I swear to the Goddess and all of the pantheon that if you don't just tell it to me straight I will not be held accountable for my actions."_

 _Iris gave him an icy glance. "Folamaités, Gladio, I was talking about folamaités."_

" _My ability to understand the Old Tongue is rubbish, what does that mean?"_

" _I'm not entirely sure on my translation and the scholars refuse to help a servant, especially a female one, but I believe it means 'blood mate.'"_

 _Gladio frowned. "I rather don't like the sound of that."_

" _Neither do I, but I think our Ollphéist friend has one. If my understanding is correct, it's an ancient marital practice of bonding two souls together. One cannot survive without the other. In the case of Ollphéists, that includes their ability to take blood from another. If he has a folamaité, then drinking from any other creature would be like drinking poison. It would kill both him and his wife."_

" _And you think that's why he refused us both?"_

 _Iris nodded and looked toward the window. "He's dying, Gladio, but yet he refuses blood. That has to be the only explanation. He hasn't given up hope on finding a way to save himself and his folamaité. We need to find her."_

Gladio sighed. If that was true, then why Noctis? Surely the prince would know if he had married some Ollphéist, right? Perhaps his sister's ramblings were merely that, ramblings. The Ollphéist was just picky.

"Gladio? Glaaadio? Gladio!"

Gladio blinked and looked at the prince, who was standing before him. Noctis's eyes were as deep and as gray as the Muir na Bandia before a midnight storm, and just as deadly calm. As he looked into those steady eyes his fears quieted. He would trust his prince's judgment.

"Are you all right?" Noctis asked.

"I'm fine, Your Highness."

"Good, then place him on the bed, quickly. I fear in the Ollphéist's blood loss. Surely any normal man would be dead by now?"

"I'd imagine so," Gladio said, placing the limp body onto the soft bed. The Ollphéist's bleeding had finally started to slow, but there where too many injuries to heal at once. His ankles and wrists stained the coverings red.

"If you could please wait outside…"

Gladio's head snapped around. "What?"

Noctis's eyes had lowered to the floor and his cheeks were as dark as the rose the Ollphéist had given him earlier. "Please? Umbra and Pryna are in the study. Surely the dogs will know immediately if something is amiss."

"You want me to put my faith in a pair of overgrown dogs?"

Noctis's eyes met his. "I want you to put your faith in me."

"You are like a brother to me, Noct," Gladio said, placing his hand on the prince's shoulder. "My faith is always with you."

Noctis placed his hand on Gladio's. "And mine with you, brother. If we were of the Iníonian clans, you would be my rhyfelmaité."

Gladio gave Noctis's shoulder a reaffirming squeeze and then left the bedchamber, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

* * *

Noctis sighed and looked down at the Ollphéist. He knew that he had to hurry, time was not on his side, but he felt nervous and shaky. For some reason his body was sore and he was so exhausted it took every bit of will power not to collapse on the bed and let Fate have her way. But the thought of letting the Ollphéist die pained him more than he could understand.

Unbuttoning his vest and shirt, Noctis sat beside the Ollphéist, whose skin and lips had become as pale as his long golden hair. It made the strange bronze markings stand out even more. What was it, exactly, that drew him to this ethereal beauty, this sleeping mystery, this Ollphéist?

Leaning down, Noctis brushed his lips against the Ollphéist's and whispered, "I'm here."

The Ollphéist breathed deeply and then Noctis lifted the Ollphéist's head to his throat.

"Come back to me."

Noctis gasped. Pain pierced his skin and then warmth flooded his body. He felt so confused, so desperate, so _alive_. He clung to the Ollphéist, his hand going into its golden locks, his fingers tangling with the hidden beaded braids he found there. Noctis pulled the Ollphéist closer. It wasn't close enough. His heart sped up. His senses came alive. He could smell the salt in the air, the earthy scent of roses and spice, and the wet, musty scent of the rain that hadn't come in months. He could hear the clouds rumble and groan, and then roar as thunder shook the skies. He heard the people, still awake from the festival, cry out in glee as rain poured. A gift from the Goddess Uisce, they shouted, but as Noctis's vision began to darken, he knew that the rain had not been the Goddess's doing.


	5. IV

**:IV:**

 _Roses. Miles and miles of red, vibrant roses. The sound of waves softly crashing against the cliffside. A child's laughter, bright, carefree. The sun, high in the bright, blue sky, was warm against his skin. Happiness, pure unadulterated happiness, filled him. A distant memory? No. A dream? But it was too familiar. The wind brushed through his hair, making the ebony strands dance. It was so long. It hadn't been this long since childhood. His friend used to play with his hair all the time. Whenever he washed it he would always find little braids hidden within it._

 _Noctis ran his fingers through his hair, smiling when his fingers caught on one of those braids. The joy that filled his heart was simple, but deep. He missed his friend. It had saddened him greatly over the years that with each passing year it had become more difficult to remember what the boy had looked like. He couldn't even remember his name._

" _Noct," a voice whispered on the wind, deep and melodious._

 _Noctis turned around. A man stood amongst the roses. His long, golden hair shone ivory in the sun. The small bells attached to the braids hidden within his hair sung like wind chimes in the summer breeze. And his eyes were no long hidden beneath a silk blindfold, but looked upon him with a hauntingly familiar silver gaze._

" _Ollphéist," Noctis said, "What is this place?"_

 _The Ollphéist smiled and shook his head. As he approached Noctis, rose petals slowly drifted upwards into the sky and, for a moment, Noctis wondered if this was what it was like to meet a god. The Ollphéist chuckled._

 _Noctis glared at it—him. It was difficult to think of this creature as a mere man or even the kind of beast he was raised to believe Ollphéists were. "What are you laughing at?"_

" _I am no god, nor would I ever dare it. Their wrath is something to be feared, indeed."_

" _So you can talk."_

" _Aye, but not for long. The bond is not yet complete and I am not strong enough right now to sustain this for much longer."_

" _What do you mean? What is this place? Who did that to you? What do you know? Who are you?"_

 _The Ollphéist raised his hand to Noctis's lips, silencing the prince, and smiled. "You have not changed overmuch. That is good to know. From here on out you will need that curiosity and courage. I have taken much from you this night and will sleep for some time. Eat well and go easy on your body. You will feel week for a few days. When you feel strong again, I will need more of your blood, but do not rush. I have sustained a great many wounds, but as long as you are alive and well, I will live. Sleep in the same bed as me and when I am strong enough, I will show you what I can."_

" _But-"_

" _Shh," the Ollphéist said and kissed the prince's forehead as the sky began to darken. "For now sleep Second Prince of Ríocht na Uisce, for tomorrow you take your first steps toward king."_

 _Noctis's eyes widened, but he saw nothing. King of Ríocht na Uisce? Him? But then sleep took him, and he knew nothing._


	6. V

**:V:**

Gladio added kindle to the fire in Noctis's study and looked again at the pair of overgrown dogs asleep in their bed beside the fire. In truth, he was fairly certain that Umbra was an Uisce wolf, with his thick, coarse, dark fur and Pryna a Fíorian golden wolf, with her smaller frame and lighter coat, but since wolves were thought of as cursed creatures in Uisce, he kept his mouth shut. According to Ignis, the pair had appeared some twelve years ago and had somehow lifted the prince's spirits from nearly a year of dark, melancholy humours. Whether or not that was true, Gladio didn't care. The only thing that mattered to him was that in the decade of knowing the second prince, those beasts had been unwaveringly loyal to their master. Wolf or dog, man or Ollphéist, to Gladio loyalty and actions were all that mattered.

As the Fíorian wind-up clock on the mantle chimed three, Umbra lifted his head and looked toward the bedroom door. Taking that as his cue that it was done, Gladio rose and cracked the door open. Perhaps the sight of two men asleep and intertwined should have seemed grotesque and perverse. Perhaps in those savage kingdoms beyond the Muir na Bandia it was different, but in Ríocht na Uisce men only laid with women. And yet, the sight before him seemed natural to Gladio, serene even.

"Strange, isn't it?" Iris asked as she came to stand next to her brother. "It is almost as if we're walking into the chamber of the Gods."

Gladio smiled. "I wouldn't say that, but I would say it's strange how natural this all seems."

"Perhaps it is our mother's Thorthúilian blood that allows us to see the beauty here."

"If anything, it is our mother's blood that will get us in trouble. Come on, we need to get them cleaned up and bandaged before anyone finds out what's happened here."

Nodding, Iris said, "If you could carry the Ollphéist into the bathing chamber, I can clean him up whilst you-"

"Absolutely not. The only naked man you will ever see will be your husband."

"Like I'll ever get one of those! I'm practically a spinster and therefore old enough to bathe and tend to the wounds of an unconscious man."

"Iris-"

"Gladio, either you help me move him or I will do it myself. Either way I'll see his flaccid cock and think nothing of it. I won't even fancy fainting," Iris said, her arms akimbo. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

As much as Gladio wanted to throw his sister over his shoulder and lock her in her room, he couldn't help but smile. With her dark hair piled atop her head and stern amber eyes, Iris looked the picture of their mother standing off with their father. It was a sight he had been fortunate enough to see often as a child, as well as the merry laughter that was always to follow. Iris, having only been a babe of three when they Great Storm took their parents, could not say the same.

With a reluctant sight, Gladio said, "I fear the man who will one day take you to wife."

"He will be a fearsome fool indeed." Iris grinned. "Come now, there's work to be done."

Without another word, the siblings went about their tasks. Gladio carried the Ollphéist to the bathing chamber, determined to help Iris tend to the poor creature, but she quickly shooed him from the room with the wave of her hand. Rolling his eyes to the Realm of the Gods, Gladio returned to the prince, intent on treating Noctis himself.

Upon inspection, however, Gladio could find no drop of blood, nor wound upon the prince. He frowned. Noctis was a little pale, though. Gladio made note to ask Old Cook to serve the prince a hearty breakfast tray come sunrise. It would not do for anyone in the castle to see another royal looking sickly.

It was enough that King Regis had not left his bed in nearly eight years. Many wondered why the King had not yet passed on the crown. At two and thirty, surely Prince Adryn was old enough to rule Ríocht na Uisce. Yet, the fact that King Regis still held the thrown gave Gladio hope that his prince would be chosen instead.

Gladio moved Noctis under the furs and began gathering up the bloodied protective layers as he thought back on when the King had first become ill. It had been in the summer of the Year of the Goddess 1631. Gladio had only just become the newly appointed Castle General at the ripe age of three and twenty, the same age the second prince was now.

 _It had started like any other morning: rising and dressing as the golden sun rose from the depths of the Muir na Bandia. As he was his habit, he jogged through the curving, maze-like streets of the port city that surrounded the cliffside castle. The warm smell of freshly baked goods and the morning song of the sea birds chased away the last dreads of slumber as he made his way towards the beach. As he reached the pathway leading down to the sand, he found a lone figure leaning against the railings._

" _Your Highness?" Gladio asked, slowing to a walk as he approached the man. Despite his graying hair, King Regis was still a tall, intimidating man with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. Yet there was a softness around his dark eyes that Gladio had never seen before, as he watched a small, slim figure running along the beach with a pair of great, beastly dogs. Coming to a halt, Gladio said, "King Regis?"_

 _Without taking his eyes off of the figure, the King said, "How often does he run like that? It is as if he's filled with endless pain and sorrow."_

 _Gladio looked toward the running figure. It was not uncommon for him to find that small, gangly body running without restraint in the morning sun, sand flying out behind him. Sometimes he had even seen Prince Noctis fall and cry out in anguish before frustration picked him up and he began running again._

" _The Second Prince has always been a tad emotional at times. Ignis says it is because he takes after his mother."_

 _The King frowned. "She was never like this. This is too much for a boy of only fifteen summers."_

 _Gladio was quiet for a time. He wasn't sure if he should tell the King what he knew, what the prince had told him in private confidence. Noctis's trust honoured him greatly. He did not want to betray that, but what had been said worried him nearly as much as what he had seen. Clearing his throat, Gladio said, "There is something we need to discuss, Your Highness, it is about your son."_

 _The King turned to him and for the first time since he had come to Ríocht na Uisce as an orphaned child with sister in tow, he saw the King not as a proud ruler, but as a father no different from his own or any other._

" _Please, tell this to no one, not even the prince himself. He gave me his trust, but I fear I am powerless to help him. I am afraid for him."_

" _Noctis has always been a quiet boy, different from the others. At one time I thought my actions had damaged him beyond repair. It is good to know he has friends he holds dear enough to let into his heart. I would not do him such an injury as to again break that bond. Please, tell me what you know."_

 _Gladio did not completely understand what the King meant, but now was not the time to hesitate. "For as long as I have known him, Prince Noctis has had strange dreams. As of late these dreams are more often than not. They are dreams of places he has never been too and of people he has never met. You alone know of my father, that he was a Uiscian pirate and a spy for the crown, and you know that my family often travelled with him._

' _In my eight years of life before my parents were taken by the Great Storm of the Goddess Uisce, I have seen much of the world and its people. I know of what he dreams. He dreams of the secretive clans hidden in the forests of Iníon Ríocht and of the hidden temples in the jungles of my homeland, An Talamh Thorthúil. Lately, his dreams have taken him into the depths of the desert of Tir yr Haul."_

 _The King's brow rose in confusion and he began to rub his arm, as if pained. "Yet that is not all, is it?"_

 _Gladio shook his head. "There are times when his eyes contain a strange shine and he knows things that he did not know a moment ago. In these moments he can write the forbidden characters of Ancient Iníonian and speak sacred Thorthúilian and various Haulian dialects as if they were his mother tongue. When we spare during training and that shine appears, he moves in ways known only to the Clans of Iníon Ríocht. And yet, when the shine goes away, he knows not what he just said or did. Yet, this is not what worries me the most."_

" _What does?"_

" _With the dreams and odd shine also comes strange emotions and desires that he struggles to control. He will be so full of rage or pain or sorrow or loneliness that he does not know what to do. He is overcome by it. As of late, this has all been happening more frequently. All of this is worrisome to be sure, yet that is not why I am afraid for him._

' _Last week, if you recall, I took Prince Noctis on a hunt. He had been acting rather dazed and melancholy as of late, and I wished to find out what was troubling him. One morning when I woke him he lay very still for a time, as if he had not yet returned from the Realm of Dreams, and then he slowly began to weep. His weeping became great sobs of such pain the likes that I have never heard before. When he had finally calmed he told me that he had 'once again lost his other half and that he wished he could sleep and never wake again.' Since that morning he has not had any dreams, yet the pain remains."_

 _The King continued to rub his arm and looked out toward his son as he whispered, "Wolves are terrifying creatures, General Gladio, absolutely terrifying. Yet, he loves them as naturally as breathing."_

" _I don't understand, Your Highness."_

" _One day you will. A man cannot live as half a man." The King sighed and turned from the beach. "It is still too early for one such as I. I think I will return to bed for a time."_

 _Gladio watched as the King walked up the path leading to the main road, unaware that he would be the last one to see the King in such good health._

Noctis groaned. His body felt sluggish, disconnected from himself. He could still hear the gentle rhythm of rain against the windowpanes. A warm hand rested on his arm. It was large and comforting. Slowly, Noctis opened his eyes. The world was blurry but only dimly lit. He blinked to clear his sight.

"Are you awake, Noct?"

Noctis scrunched his brow, trying to comprehend what was said, and then slowly turned his head. Goddess above, he had never had a hangover quite like this one. Gladio looked down at him, the worry evident in his gray eyes.

"Gladdy?" Noctis asked; his voice was horse and his throat felt dry and raw. "What happened? I had the strangest dream."

Gladio sat on the side of the bed and brushed some of Noctis's hair to the side. "I fear it was not a dream. I'd imagine you are quite weak right now. You gave away a lot of blood."

Noctis looked like a confused child, baffled by his own state of being. Gladio chuckled. He could not love his Uiscian brother any more. Even though this boy was in the process of becoming a man in his own right, he would always be Gladio's little brother.

"What?" Noctis asked.

"'Tis nothing." Gladio waves his sentimental laughter away and then went on to explain what had occurred in the passed few hours. As he spoke, Pryna padded softly into the room and lep tonto the bed. She circled herself once and then settled beside her master with her head on Noctis's stomach.

"I see," Noctis said when Gladio had finished, absentmindedly running his fingers through the beast's fur. "Where his he now?"

"Iris is tending to him now. He's still unconscious, but his wounds need cleaning and redressing."

"I see."

Gladio smiled. "You see a lot, Your Highness."

Noctis rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Ah, there it is. I'm relieved. I daresay if you can smile then you'll be all right in the end."

"Thank you, Gladio."

Gladio gave Noctis's arm a light squeeze and then stood. "Once Iris is done with our guest, where shall I move him? Should I have a guest bedroom prepared?"

"No." Noctis's smile disappeared. "I fear it will not do well to have the Ollphéist very far. The dogs' bed is large enough for a fill groan man. If you could move it in here by the hearth and change the bedding, that should be enough for an Ollphéist."

"But what about a man?"

Noctis blushed lightly and looked away. "I am very much aware that the Ollphéist is a man, Gladio, but I must be careful. With Adryn across the Muir na Bandia, I need the Court Lords' support. I do not yet have the power to keep my kingdom whole on my own."

Gladio lifted a brow. "Yet?"

Noctis looked at him directly. "Yet."

Bowing his head respectfully, Gladio said, "I will do as you ask, my prince. Please, get some more rest and regain your strength."

Turning on his hell, the Castle General left the room. That was the first time he had ever heard the Second Prince refer to the kingdom as his own. It both frightened him and overjoyed him.


	7. VI

**:VI:**

Iris sang softly as she stitched and bandaged the Ollphéist's wounds, the Thorthúilian words gracefully leaving her lips. She had no idea why she sang them, but at the sight of the extensive damaged to the Ollphéist's body, she didn't really know what else to do. The words began to flow out of her, soothing and gentle.

The Ollphéist's back appeared to have been repeatedly shredded by a lash and as she washed his body she discovered some skin coloured concoction had covered more defensive bruises than she would count. She had heard that Haulians wore colourful powders to exaggerate their features during religious ceremonies, but she never imagined it could work to this extent. His arms, legs, and torso were covered in an ugly camouflage of blue, purple, and yellow, interrupted here and there by crude circular burns. This poor man had been tortured countless times, yet that was not even the worst of his damage. His eyes had been burned from their sockets. It took all of Iris's willpower not to be ill or weep at the sight before her.

When she had first seen him come out of the blue festival flames she had thought him a god. He had been so beautiful, so elegant, so ethereal. Now, as she washed the bronze, metallic powder from his skin to reveal the dark, Iníonian markings she had known from her childhood with the Clans, Iris saw him as a man—mortal and breakable. Yet, this man had suffered so much and had still stood tall before Prince Noctis. She wondered how he would seem once he had healed.

"Your voice is wasted on beasts."

Iris jumped, dropping the damp washrag on the floor, and turned. Ignis leaned against the doorframe, his long figure elegantly relaxed, and, as always, immaculately dressed. Perhaps because she was three years older than Noctis, or perhaps because Ignis's mannerisms always seemed precise and calculated, but Iris had always thought that Ignis was the more princely of the two cousins. Though, perhaps she was merely bias because she liked to look at the older cousin. Noctis, she'd rather throw mud in his face and run away laughing like a child.

"I'd say you're staring more at me than that naked beast behind you," Ignis said. "Good to know."

Iris blushed. The improperness of her situation suddenly abundantly clear, and she doubted the same argument that she had used with her brother would work on this man. Iris straightened her shoulders anyway. Properness be damned. "This man needed medical treatment."

"That beast needs to be discarded in a ditch and forgotten."

"I don't believe you're really that heartless, Ignis."

"For a mere maid, you are uncommonly optimistic about people."

Iris lifted her chin just a notch. "Well someone has to balance out your naïve negativity."

Ignis smiled inwardly. "Says the maiden who thinks nothing of the consequences of her actions. Goddess above, Iris, you're sat on the floor with a naked man!"

"At least you admitted he's a man," Iris said, making no attempt to hide her triumphed smirk.

Ignis turned an unnatural shade of red.

"Since you've no witty quip on hand," she continued, "help me dress him. The last think I need is him getting sick after I spent the better part of an hour cleaning and dressing all of his wounds."

"I will do no such thing."

Iris held up a pair of male undergarments that Gladio had procured for her some time ago alone with some proper Uiscian attire. Ignis's eyes widened behind his spectacles and he made a strange strangled sound before stiffly marching over to her and taking the garments from her. Oh, how she loved to get under his skin.

"Thank you," she said with a delighted giggle. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before collecting the Ollphéist's dirty garments and her supplies and removing them from the room.

Upon her return she found Ignis and her brother standing in the prince's sitting room. Her brother looked the worse for ware, the exhaustion evident on his gruff face. It had certainly been a long night for all of them. Ignis was needlessly cleaning his spectacles—it was his only tell and something she found incredibly endearing. Whenever Ignis was worried or upset he would clean his spectacles.

"The Court Lords will have our hides in the morrow," Ignis was saying as she closed the door behind her. "I cannot even begin to count how many drunken complaints I heard during the festival. Goddess only knows how many we'll get once the lot of them are sober enough to make a coherent thought."

"Is that why you came to the prince's quarters at this ungodly hour?" Iris asked as she took a seat on one of the plush rosewood couches. "You do realise Noct's asleep, right?"

Ignis slanted her a glance. "Should you be abed as well, child?"

Gladio held up his hand to halt his sister's retort. If they didn't get on with it soon, he had half the mind to lock the pair up for a night and force the pompous royal to take her to wife the very next morning. "I'm tired and my duties start in less than an hour, so let us be quick about this, hm?"

Iris held back a yawn and said nothing.

Ignis gave a curt nod. "I've spent the better part of the last few hours trying to calm the Haulian dancers. The guards had to relocate them to the dungeons because they were having an uproar. Those woman nearly took out some of your men, General."

Gladio ran a hand through his hair. Goddess above, what he wouldn't give for a bath and his bed. "What do they want?"

"Since none of your men speak Haulian, they called for me, but my knowledge of the nomadic dialects is very limited. However, if I had to guess, I'd reckon they want to know what happened to their Ollphéist."

"He's not an object," Iris began, "he doesn't be-"

"Enough," Gladio snapped. "There's no need to preach here. In fact, it would be best if you kept your damn mouth shut, and don't even think about giving me that indignant pout. This is for your own good, Iris. You don't have the position that Noctis does. If you keep this up the Court Lords will quickly be done with you without a second thought. Be aware of your own insignificants."

Iris's eyes filled with tears. "But-"

"Go to bed, Iris."

Iris stood with a huff, glaring all the while as she turned on her heal and stomped out of the room.

As the door slammed closed, Ignis said, "And you all call me heartless."

"Would you just marry her all ready?" Gladio growled out.

Ignis frowned. "You know very well that I'm not at liberty to choose my own wife. Prince Ardyn made that very clear to me before he left. Doing so would be an act of treason against the crown. He desires to use my position as a political pawn. Otherwise, I would have asked her years ago, before she was so bitter towards me."

"She's hardly bitter. She just likes teasing you." Gladio sighed. "Very well, chase after her. I know you want to. I'll deal with the Haulians."

The words were barely out of Gladio's mouth and Ignis was out the door. Gladio shook his head. He felt old. He was barely thirty and one and he felt so damn old. Yet, he had a feeling that life was about to get harder with the rising of the sun. Mayhaps it was about time he settled down with a wife of his own. If only.


	8. VII

**:VII:**

The morning breeze filtered through the Haulian silk curtains, rich with the scent of wet earth and the salty sea mist. His whole body felt on edge, overly sensitized. His breakfast tray was left mostly untouched on the bed. The usually delicious foods made him want to vomit with a single bite. Only the tea was he marginally able to stomach: herbal, a little sweet, and a subtle hint of mint. Was this a side effect of giving his blood to an Ollphéist? If so, he hoped it was only temporary. He really did not want to get used to the new sensations that came with wearing clothes. Wool had always been a little rough, but was cotton always this scratchy?

Taking a sip of his tea, Noctis sat on the chaise situated at the end of his bed and looked at the presumably unwanted guest. Now that he had been properly bathed and the Haulian powder removed, the Ollphéist looked remarkably pale for coming from the blazing deserts of Tir yr Haul. It had been some time since Noctis had seen any Fíorian royalty, but he would bet a strand of Uiscian pearls that the Ollphéist was just as pale as they were, if not more so. Which was odd, considering that the Fíorians prided themselves on their colouring being unique to their kingdom. Either way the beast would definitely stand out amongst the cliff and island dwelling seafarers of Ríocht na Uisce—nothing but dark hair and wind-burned skin here.

Noctis sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the soft snore coming from the dogs' bed, where Umbra was stretched out against the Ollphéist. He had always found it humorous that the male dog snored worse than any human. Yet, it was also comforting. The sound meant that Umbra believed the Ollphéist to be harmless.

The Ollphéist. Noctis groaned mentally. What was he going to do? He had acted irrationally last night. He was impulsive. Ignis had taught him better. Caution and thoughtfulness was key. Yet, when he had seen the blood—he just couldn't help it, he moved. His feet were already in motion before his mind had caught up with him. Regardless if Ollphéists were man or beast, no creature should be tortured like that—Noctis's eyes moved to the bandages covering the Ollphéist's body—and he had definitely been tortured.

The Court Lords he would handle, he had grown up with their irrational superstitious. The Goddess's Children, with their fear-mongering sermons of the Old Lore, would also be manageable. Ignis, on the other hand, was the only person with firsthand experience. His cousin's hatred of Ollphéists was justifiable. Noctis couldn't ignore that.

With a content huff, Pryna put her head on Noctis's shoulder as she lay on the bottom of the bed. He could smell the gamy scent of meat on her breath. Looking over to his empty breakfast tray, Noctis smiled.

"Well," he said, running his fingers affectionately through her soft neck fur, "at least someone enjoyed Old Cook's labours."

Pryna rubbed her muzzle against his cheek.

"You're going to get fat, though, if you keep eating this much."

She whined in response.

Noctis laughed.

There was a soft knock on the door, bringing the Second Prince to a stand. There were only a handful of people who would enter this far in his chambers without permission. Noctis looked to the dogs, they were undisturbed. The intruder was safe.

"Enter," he called.

The door opened, but Ignis did not step through it. He never did. As usual, his navy and silver advisor's livery was pristine, not a string out of place. Noctis took example of his cousin. This was how a royal should be.

"There's a bit of a mess below stairs, Your Highness," Ignis said evenly. Noctis noted that he avoided looking in the direction of the Ollphéist. "The Haulian dancers are demanding an audience with you."

Noctis straightened his shoulders. "About their companion?"

"Most likely. Though, their dialect is very thick. Even General Gladiolus is having difficulties translating their yelling."

"Hmm…" Noctis looked to the fire, a hand behind his back, the other still holding his cup of tea. This would have to be dealt with quickly but privately. The public view of Haulian nomads was not much better than that of Ollphéists. Most Court Lords thought of them as savages, good for only slavery and whoring. He wasn't sure if that estimation of their humanity was true or not, having never met a Haulian before, but he needed whatever information they had on the Ollphéist. Translation was going to be a problem, though.

"Your Highness?" Ignis said.

"Have them brought to my father's private library, and have Iris serve them warm tea and scones. I will be down shortly."

Ignis frowned. "Iris, Your Highness?" She's not-"

"As usual you are unusually protective of the Castle General's maiden sister," Noctis said, hardening his voice and staring the man down.

Ignis lowered his gaze to the intricate Thorthúilian carpets.

"As my advisor, you know very well that, as my personal maid, she is the only servant we can trust not to gossip if she overhears anything. As her friend, you know she is also perhaps the only person in this entire kingdom who will treat the Haulians without prejudice. We don't want to upset viable sources of information."

"Are you prejudice against them, then, Your Highness?"

Noctis softened the edge in his voice. "You know better than anyone that the children are raised on the faults of their kingdom. This is a test that I must overcome if I am to lead my kingdom into a future of peace."

Ignis's head snapped up, his eyes wide, and his jaw hung in surprise. "Noctis-"

The prince laughed, smiling. A sense of purpose was starting to grow inside of him. It felt… freeing.

"Go," Noctis said more gently. "Do as I ask, cousin. I'm sure this will only be the beginning to a very long day of people yelling at me. The Goddess's Children are most likely already on the streets of Uiscí ag Titim spewing their nonsense, and the Court Lords should be waking from their stupors soon. After their wives are done nagging them for their debauchery, I'm sure they'll be raring to have a go at me."

The corners of Ignis's lips twitched upwards. "I'm sure they will, Your Highness."

Bowing respectfully, Ignis closed the door and was on his way. Noctis looked towards the Ollphéist, who lay defenseless and unmoving on the dogs' bed. A desire to protect him tightened just beneath Noctis's ribcage.

"Guard him, well, Umbra," Noctis whispered before downing the rest of his tea and setting the cup on the chessboard table next to the chaise. Leaping off of the bed, Pryna followed the Second Prince out of the room. So it begins.


	9. VIII

**:VIII:**

"Koyirsrehs lak larahske, kel larahskahsrakdak!" The crude Haulian dialect could be heard throughout the corridor as Noctis approached his father's private library.

Heaving a mental sigh, he was thankful that this area of the castle was nearly as barren as the wing where his own quarters resided. Not that anyone could understand what the woman was yelling anyway. Compared to the few times he had heard Gladio's precise pronunciations, this woman's tongue was as quick as a whip. It made Gladio seem absolutely daft.

"Akrah yirska kel amsokslar kenah?"

Irritation flooded him as he entered the library, the door opening with a quiet but ominous thud. Ignoring the grandeur of the room with its lush navies and deep greens that complimented the dark woods of the two-story high bookcases and offset the vibrant greens of the potted plants, Noctis glared at the woman near the massive black marble and emerald fireplace. She was uncommonly tall and her brown hair was piled wildly atop her head. Yet, what caught him off-guard was the woman's peculiar amber eyes. They were large, lined with thick lashes, and seemed to shimmer with flecks of gold in the light.

"Ahsrak kel nehs kenah?" The woman asked, her tone softening as she spoke to him. She turned her back on Gladio and Ignis, both of whom looked relieved.

Noctis closed the door firmly behind him and approached the woman. He could feel his emotions stirring beneath the surface. For some reason he was on edge, like he was on the verge of loosing control. He had not felt this way since he was a boy of five and ten. Noctis took a deep breath. He was the Second Prince of Ríocht na Uisce. He was in control.

"Are you an Ollphéist?" he asked, keeping his tone calm, polite. Mentally, he reprimand himself—blurting out the first question without even giving an introduction! Ignis would certainly give him an earful later.

The woman looked at him for a moment. He could feel her unearthly gaze judging him. Noctis stood tall, unwavering, and waited. After a time, the woman touched just beneath her eye and then parted the heavy travelling cloak she wore and placed her hand on her protruding belly. Noctis's eyes widened. A deep, painful anger welled up in side him.

"Is it his?" Noctis practically snarled. Beyond the woman Gladio and Ignis tensed, their hands going to their weapons, but Noctis did not notice. He only saw this wretched woman carrying the Ollphéist's child. How dare she. _How dare she_.

The woman's eyes widened and she took a step back, her arms wrapping more protectively around her womb. Gladio stepped around her, pulling the woman behind him as if Noctis was the threat here.

The prince raised his glare to the Castle General. Who was he to raise a hand to the prince? Noctis did not bother keeping his anger out of his tone, "What are you doing, Gladio?"

"I think you need to take a step back, Your Highness. Calm down a bit."

Noctis took a step forward, challenging the general. "Move."

"Your eyes," Ignis said, his tone clam as he stepped between the two men and raised his hands to halt Noctis's advancement. "They've changed."

Noctis slid his cold gaze to his advisor. He wanted to rip the their throats out for interfering, but his cousin's words had penetrated the unchecked anger. He took a step back, trying to control himself. When had he ever had such bloodthirst? This was not him. He took another step back.

His friends watched him cautiously as he turned from them and walked over to a decorative wall-mirror. Despite the mirrors speckled deterioration, Noctis could make out his reflection. At first he looked normal, abet a little paler than usual: thick, dark hair, angular features just like his father, and eyes a deep, piercing blue of the sea's most secret depths like his mother's had been. He turned his head to admonish his friends and he saw it. As the light reflected off his eyes, they shined dark, metallic silver.

Noctis froze. The man in the mirror was not him, could not be him! This dark haired man with silver eyes was wild, feral. A beast. A monster! A… Noctis touched his reflection. Ollphéist. Was this _his_ doing? Was this because the Ollphéist had drank from him?

The woman came to stand beside him, her eyes pure gold in the mirror. Her voice was quiet, but even though she still spoke Haulian Noctis could somehow understand her. "You have shown Emry kindness and he has gifted you, but all things come with a price."

Noctis did not look away from their reflections in the mirror. Somehow, he knew that if he did, the connection would be broken and he would lose control again. "A price?"

She nodded, her tone gentle, motherly. "Humans have detached themselves from their own natures. They have built walls and created civilizations to separate themselves from it. They stamp it out of their children and tell them to 'grow up.' The Ollphéists are in tune with themselves and the world around them. They feel things keenly, understand it, and react accordingly. Know thyself and you will be able to control it."

Noctis took that in. He had never really thought about himself that way. As a child he supposed had been freer with his emotions, his mother had even encouraged that trait. He remembered feeling a great many things, and it had been that mutual ability to feel that had drawn him to the gardener's son, who was so different from the arrogant and disinterested nobility that he had been forced to interact with at his parents' parties. When Noctis had been with the other boy the world had been so bright and wonderful and multifaceted. But then the boy had left and Noctis's world grew bland and dim. Over the years the emotions became too much. Ignis had taught him control. He had taught Noctis how to be aloof, unfeeling, like all the others. Was this anger then part of himself and not a symptom from the Ollphéist?

"You mentioned someone named Emry, is that the Ollphéist?" he asked.

"It is the name we call him, but it is not his true name."

"True name?"

"The name his bloodmate gave him."

Noctis raised an eyebrow. "Bloodmate?"

The woman nodded. "The one he has given himself to for all eternity."

"Hmm…" Noctis was quiet again as he continued to look at his reflection. A bloodmate. He knew the reference, folamaité in the sacred scriptures of the Goddess's Children, written in a mostly forgotten ancient tongue. He didn't remember much. The old texts always bored him. Though, he did remember the scholars' fear of the term. Then again, what didn't the Goddess's Children fear?

Noctis allowed his gaze to drift to the woman's reflection and then lower, to her protruding belly. Anger again coursed through him. He didn't understand it, but he also wasn't of the mind to keep it in check. The Haulians really were whores, weren't they?

A gentle breeze drifted through the open window and seemed to wrap around the prince, soothingly caressing his overly sensitized flesh. He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and lemon filling his senses. He calmed. For a moment he felt a presence to his left, yet the mirror only showed the woman to his right. She watched him curiously.

"Forgive me," he said, "but I seem to have forgotten my manners. It's a bit late for introductions, but I don't even know your name."

"Crowe," she said cautiously. "Emry is rather protective of you, King of Ríocht na Uisce."

He frowned. "Second Prince Noctis, actually."

Crowe's eyes widened and then she relaxed, smiling knowingly. "I see."

Noctis's eyes narrowed. "And what is it that you think you see?"

"Emry told us that if he should die before we were returned to our home, that we were to seek out a man named Noctis. Emry said he was a kind, honorable man who would not judge us by the blood in our veins, but rather by our actions."

"I have never met that Ollphéist, yet he would trust me with the mother of his child? I'm not sure your-"

Crowe bubbled over with laughter. "Emry is not the father."

"But your child is Ollphéist?"

"The desert clans care only for survival. Man or Ollphéist, it does not matter. My husband, the chief of our clan, is of mixed blood and is stronger for it. My only hope is that that strength is passed down to our son when he enters this world."

"I see," Noctis said evenly, hiding the odd relief that flooded through him. The child was not the Ollphéist's. He had not lain with this woman. That fact pleased Noctis more than he cared to explore at the present. Instead, he asked, "What do you know of the Ollphéist? His wounds were tended to last night, but there were far more than even a mere captive on a slave ship should have had."

Crowe frowned. "So he is well? Emry is safe?"

"The Ollphéist has been treated and is currently sleeping. He is safe. What happened to him on that ship?"

"If I tell you, will you return him to us?"

This time the anger returned with a vengeance. His skin prickled and he ground his teeth together. Return the Ollphéist to her? Did she think she had some claim to him because she called him by that ridiculous name? Rage filled him. It boiled and bubbled over, seeking an exit. Turning to her, he said very quietly, "Lak yirska kal."

 _He is mine_.

Crowe gasped and stepped back, her hands protecting her womb.

Noctis turned from the woman as the door to the library opened. Vaguely, he was aware of Gladio and Ignis calling out to him, but he paid them no mind. He even ignored Iris's startled reaction as he stepped passed her, avoiding the tea tray as it crashed to the ground, shattered porcelain scattering across the floor.

Mildly, he was aware of Pryna following him down the corridor as he made his way back to his quarters. It seemed as if she was the only one unfazed by his mood. Leave it to a dog to understand him. Then again, the dogs had taken to the Ollphéist's presence rather naturally.

Entering his quarters, Noctis went straight to his bedroom. The Ollphéist, Emry—the name sent a shiver of revolt through him; the name felt wrong, unnatural to him—remained asleep in the dogs' bed next to the fire. Umbra lifted his head as Noctis approached. With a gentle huff, the dog hopped down and went to his mate. He greeted her and then the pair left the room.

Noctis stood before the cot, looking down at the Ollphéist. He did not belong to her, to any of them. The Ollphéist was… he was…. Noctis knelt beside the coat and took the Ollphéist's hands in his own. For some reason he had expected the man's skin to be smooth, soft, but the Ollphéist's fingers were cool to the touch and incredibly calloused. Yet, even in a relaxed state, Noctis could feel the strength in them.

Closing his eyes, Noctis rested his head on the cot and continued to hold the Ollphéist's hand. Slowly he felt the rage ebb away. What was going on with him? Where had this possessiveness come from? This feral rage? He had not felt this strongly since he last had those strange dreams several years ago. What had they been about again? Once again, Noctis felt a gentle breeze scented with lavender and lemon. He was tired, even though it was only mid-morning. Perhaps a quick nap was in order before dealing with the Court Lords. As he drifted off into a peaceful slumber, he could have sworn he felt the Ollphéist's hand squeeze his, but then the Goddess Codladh, the Lady of Sleep took him.

* * *

 **AN:** I know "Emry" isn't a character in _Final Fantasy XV_ , but since the name isn't the Ollphéist's real name I didn't want to use a name that would mix characters up. So I left that name as is. Noctis refuses to call the Ollphéist Emry anyways :]. Also, sorry for the late post, family obligations this past week kind of put a wrench in my writing schedule.


	10. IX

**:IX:**

 _The sea birds circled the ships as they drifted through the deep blue waters of Muir na Bandia, far below the cliffs. The docks were a busy hive of sailors and merchants. Even from their perch hidden high up in the cliffs, the two boys could hear the buzzing of bargaining and the distant shouts of ship captains. The eroded rock was cool against their sun-warmed skin, and the mid-summer breeze brought the Haulian heat across the Goddess's sea making it a rather pleasant day._

 _Behind the boys was the Royal Castle, a gray, impenetrable fortress that towered over the spiraling port city of Uisci ag Titim, Titim for short. From their vantage point, the pair could see the first five circular, defensive walls that protected the castle and inadvertently separated the various economic classes. Above them was Castle Wall, the sixth and thickest stone wall, which separated the royal family from its people._

 _Noctis looked down at the apple between his two bruised hands. He'd like to think that he gave as good as he got, but the swollen cheek and cut lip told a different story of his fight with the noblemen's sons._

 _A pale hand with silvery nails snatched the fruit from his loose grasp. Noctis looked up at the boy who possessed those hands. His friend contrasted this world so much. Wherever Noctis looked it was dull and dark and worn out. Yet, his friend was all pale and silvery and blonde, and wherever he was was bright and vividly alive. Noctis loved nothing more than to watch this ethereal creature for hours work in the gardens when he was supposed to be studying: silvery blonde hair braided back; loose dirt speckled strands tucked behind slightly pointed ears by hands blackened from worked earth; a thin layer of sweat glistening across his brow and dampened the back of his shirt._

 _On more than one occasion, Noctis had overheard the maids say that the Gardener's son would be more beautiful than any Fíorian princess if only he was cleaner. Noctis disagreed. His friend was at home when he was covered in soil, when he worked the earth with bare hands, and the soft grass cushioned his naked feet. That was when he was the most beautiful._

" _Are you going to tell me what happened?" his friend asked, pulling out a knife and pealing the fruit._

 _Noctis watched as the red skin slowly separated from the juicy fruit in a single, long spiral. He didn't really want to tell the other boy what happened, but knew it was pointless to hide it. His friend was clever enough to figure it out—he probably already knew._

 _With a sigh, Noctis said, "They called you a filthy beast and said that you were good for nothing but labour and killing."_

 _The other boy smiled and arched a slender blonde brow. "I am a filthy beast."_

" _No, you're not."_

" _I am Ollphéist, m'anam."_

 _Noctis flushed at the ancient endearment said only in their private company. He couldn't remember when it was first uttered, nor what it mean in translation, but it pleased him nonetheless. Yet, he wouldn't let his friend forget that he was more than Ollphéist._

" _You're human too," Noctis said sternly. It was a point he made often enough that he didn't feel the need to give any proof to his argument, merely speak the statement from time to time._

" _Only when you're around."_

 _Noctis gave him a flat look._

 _The other boy laughed. Over the passed year it had become a warmer, deeper sound as the Gardener's son began to change from child to man. Noctis, being a few years younger, had yet to make that change. Yet, when he did, he hoped he managed to do it as elegantly. Many of the other boys were either too broad or too tall. His cousin, at six and ten, still looked like a hairless, gangly stick despite his voice settling years ago. Even though his friend was still in transition, the process seemed smooth and proportionate for him. Noctis was sure that when it was over, the other boy would be a handsome, powerful man._

 _Sobering, the other boy said, "You don't need to defend me, especially at the risk of making enemies of future Court Lords."_

 _Noctis rolled his eyes. "What do I care for Court Lords?"_

" _You may need their support one day."_

" _Hardly. I'm a mere second prince."_

" _Any prince can become king."_

" _Ardyn will be king," Noctis said, as everyone in the kingdom believed._

" _Ardyn has no love for anything accept blood. He would destroy any kingdom that foolishly placed him on the throne."_

 _Noctis frowned. The adults worshiped his elder brother. Everyone remarked on how perfect the First Prince was: tall and strong, a magnificent fighter and strategist, and impeccably charming. Ardyn had never been thought of as small, petit, or delicate, as Noctis had. Yet somehow, those silver eyes saw strength within Noctis and bloodlust in Ardyn. He trusted his friend in all else, but he didn't want to believe his brother evil._

 _He was not so young and naïve to be oblivious to the significance of it. Ardyn was born to rule, he would accept no other on their father's throne. Even at the tender age of ten, Noctis was cognizant of the bloodshed that would occur if his father named him heir. If that ever happened, the people would revolt until his head bobbed in the water like a fisherman's tackle. In the end, it would never be worth it. To be king would mean the death of his father, and no power should be gained through the death of men._

 _Instead of continuing that line of thought, Noctis said, "How long does it take to peal a blooming apple?"_

 _As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a cool slice of fruit was in it. It was sweet and crisp. The other boy's thumb brushed against his bottom lip, slowly wiping away the excess juice. Noctis looked into his eyes—silver and firm, yet not cold or ruthless like the adults said. They called him a beast, a curse upon the Goddess Uisce's kingdom, an animal. Ollphéist. Noctis only saw his friend and, his heart raced within its cage, perhaps…_

" _What is it?" the boy asked, tilting his head to the side. His blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight like the water below._

" _Run away with me," Noctis blurted out._

 _His friend blinked once, twice, and then a smile spread across his lips. "M'anam…"_

" _We can go to Oileán!" Noctis said quickly. "I have heard the sailors talk of it. They say it is the home of the Ollphéist."_

 _Cupping the back of Noctis's neck, the boy pulled him forward so that their foreheads rested upon each other's. "Oileán an Banríon Sneachta is an island of ice and snow, unaffected by the scorching winds of Tir yr Haul. Your warm Uiscian blood would freeze before the God's sun dipped beneath the Goddess's waters."_

 _Noctis lowered his eyes. "I'm not that weak."_

" _Then prove it by staying here with me. You are m'anam and I am yours. I will follow you through the depths of Goddess Uisce's waters and into Bháirs's Realm of Corpses, but first let me serve my Rose Prince here, in his own kingdom, not some distant land."_

 _Noctis sighed and moved to bury his face in his friend's chest. The boy's arms, more developed than a child's, but not yet as muscular as a man's, wrapped comfortingly around him._

" _How can you not hate them?" Noctis asked, his voice muffled by the rough woolen work-shirt, which smelled of earth and roses and sea salt. "They call you such wretched things. How is it that you are never angry?"_

" _I do get angry sometimes, though not so much anymore. I've learned how to control it."_

" _How?"_

" _Breathing deeply for starters. If that doesn't work, I run as hard and as fast as I can until I feel nothing but exhaustion, and then I run to you."_

 _Noctis lifted his head. "Me?"_

 _The boy nodded. "Whenever it is too much, when you cannot control the feelings deep within, come to me. I am d'anam and you are mine. We balance each other out, two halves of a whole."_

* * *

A soft knock roused Noctis from Codladh's arms. His eyes immediately went to the Ollphéist, still asleep, yet his body was now turned toward the prince. Such a strange memory for the Goddess Codladh to give him as a dream. He looked down at their interlocked hands. Why does this Ollphéist make him think of that long forgotten friend, who died so many years ago?

The knock sounded again.

Pulling his hand from the Ollphéist's, Noctis went to the door. Ignis stood grim faced on the other side.

"Yes?" Noctis asked.

"Are you yourself again, Your Highness?" Ignis asked.

Himself? If what Crowe said was true, then hadn't he always been himself? But his cousin wouldn't believe that, so he asked, "How do my eyes look?"

Ignis studied him for a moment, his cool gaze taking in every detail. After a time, he said, "Normal."

Noctis nodded. "Have the Court Lords begun to gather?"

"Only the most troublesome of the lot as summoned you. That is why I'm here."

"And the Haulian?"

"Returned to the others."

"Have Gladio transport them to the guest rooms and have guards posted at all times. I don't think they'll be hostile anymore, but I don't want anyone speaking with them. Iris is the only servant allowed to enter their rooms."

"And our noble guest?"

Noctis looked to the Ollphéist. _'Tomorrow you take your first steps toward king.'_ The Ollphéist's words rose up in his mind, strong and sure. Whether or not the statement was true would depend on the meeting with the Court Lords. They, more than anyone else, had always been firm supporters of his brother, who, even from the other side of the sea, continued to line their coffers. In turn, they had done nothing but hamper Noctis's every attempt at running the kingdom in his father and brother's absences. If it wasn't for Noctis's negotiations with the merchants and artisan guilds, the Court Lords and drought would have destroyed the kingdom.

Noctis looked to the window, where the rain continued to drizzle lightly upon the pane. At least the Ollphéist had somehow taken care of the drought.

"Noctis?"

His gaze returned to his cousin. His temper was in control and his skin no longer felt quite so abused. He was calm and he was ready. Noctis smiled.

"I am a prince of Ríocht na Uisce," Noctis said. "Second Prince, in fact. I see no reason to jump at the Court Lords' call. When I return I will send for them."

Ignis's eyes widened. "When you return?"

"Yes. With all this rain, I'm feeling rather spiritual. I think I shall ride to the Goddess's House and see how Her Children are fairing. You know how they hate getting wet. Care to join me?"

Just barely keeping his own grin in check, Ignis nodded. "What a splendid idea."


End file.
